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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170450">let's pour a drink, babe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights'>nights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Bartenders, Drinking, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:29:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights/pseuds/nights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka flirts with the new bartender, and the new bartender flirts back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>482</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's pour a drink, babe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this in a one-day binge. No beta, just Zukka.</p><p>Centers around bars and going out and drinking, but there's nothing excessive (i.e. vomiting or blacking out), just some college kids having a good time.</p><p>Title from "Higher" by Rihanna.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The first time Sokka sees him, Sokka’s swaggering into the bar with an arm around Aang’s shoulders, and his mouth tastes like bad liquor.</p><p class="p1">They’re fresh off of finals week — the second to last finals week Sokka would ever have to suffer — and hadn’t wasted any time popping open a handle that Toph had purchased to celebrate with. Aang is just as drunk as Sokka, the blind leading the blind over the threshold to Chan’s, that warm little sports bar that had served as a second home to generations of college students. Sokka is in the middle of laughing at something Aang said, something about kooky Professor Zhei, when Sokka glances toward the bar and feels like he’s been hit with a sack of bricks.</p><p class="p1"><em>He’s hot, oh god, he’s really hot</em>, is the only thing that Sokka can think, and he could blame the way his stomach swirls on the liquor, but Sokka knows that would be a lie. It’s all the bartender’s fault, with his tight black shirt and his hair hanging in his eyes.</p><p class="p1">Aang steers the two of them to their usual booth (a big one to fit them all), their friends leading the way. Toph has a hand on Katara’s arm as they slide in, and she’s already crowing for a beer.</p><p class="p1">“We’re gonna get some, Toph, just be patient,” Katara soothes, looking over a menu as if she didn’t know the selection by heart.</p><p class="p1">“Have I literally <em>ever</em> been patient?” Toph snarks. “Let me guess. Chan’s Brew?”</p><p class="p1">“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Suki says, sitting down, and Aang follows her.</p><p class="p1">“Sure. I’ll go order us a pitcher,” Katara says, and makes to stand, but Sokka waves her down.</p><p class="p1">“Lemme do it, I’m already up,” Sokka says, thinking of that bartender.</p><p class="p1">The bar is quickly filling from bustling to crowded, so Sokka has to push past throngs of college kids in various states of inebriation to make it back to that bar. When he emerges from the crowd, it’s a blessing, and a group of girls calling for vodka crans grumbles at the jostling. Sokka ignores them, because now he’s pressed up against the edge of the counter, and the bartender is right there.</p><p class="p1">Sokka waits, watching him make a quick cocktail, sliding it to the patron and taking their card with a practiced hand. His movements are quick, lithe, like he’s been here forever, but Sokka can’t remember ever seeing him here before. He’s got a scar, Sokka registers, that spreads across his right eye — or, Sokka’s right. The bartender’s left. Hot Bartender catches Sokka’s eye and leans over, waiting for an order.</p><p class="p1">Sokka slaps on his most charming smile as he says, “Pitcher of Chan’s Brew,” loud, over the raucous noise of the bar. He gives Sokka a quick nod, turning to the cash register to run the other customer’s card. Then, he’s filling a pitcher as quick as he can, and handing it over to Sokka in exchange for cash.</p><p class="p1">Sokka manages to keep his eye contact for those few moments of transaction, and Sokka catches his bottom lip in his teeth and gives the guy a once-over. It’s a uniform, the clinging shirt, with a Chan’s logo at the top right, but surely they had multiple sizes. <em>Gotta get your tips somehow.</em></p><p class="p1">“Thanks, babe,” Sokka says, and catches the way Hot Bartender’s eyebrows — eyebrow, Sokka realizes — shoot up, and Sokka’s too pleased with that. Sokka already knows he’s going to spend too much tonight.</p><p class="p1">When Sokka returns to the table, Toph makes grabby hands and immediately pours herself a glass, getting foam around her mouth.</p><p class="p1">“If you pour it with your glass tilted, it foams less,” Suki says, demonstrating.</p><p class="p1">Toph rolls her eyes. “The foam is the best part!”</p><p class="p1">“I always thought that the beer was the best part of beer,” Sokka quips, sliding next to Aang, who’s squished up next to Katara.</p><p class="p1">Sokka quickly regrets his choice of seating; Aang and Katara really only pay attention to each other. They’d been doing the song and dance for going on two months now, and Sokka really just wanted to get the whole thing over with. He’d rather not be the audience to their little courting rituals, the giggling and the teasing and the twirling of hair.</p><p class="p1">Sokka catches Suki’s eyes with a grimace, and she looks between him and the lovebirds, about ready to burst into peals of laughter. Sokka leans forward, wrapping his hands around his now-full glass. It’s sweating condensation onto the thin paper coaster, ice-cold, so Sokka takes a drink.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Anyways,</em>” Sokka says pointedly, addressing Suki. She covers her smile. “Did you see there’s a new bartender tonight?”</p><p class="p1">Suki quirks a brow and cranes her head, trying to see past the crowd between their booth and the bar.</p><p class="p1">“No, didn’t notice. Can’t see the bar.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s <em>tasty</em>,” Sokka says, grinning. “I’m gonna have to come here more often.”</p><p class="p1">Katara manages to hear him over her flirting, saying, “Sokka, we already come here three times a week.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka doesn’t pay her any mind. The pitcher goes quickly, and after that they all start picking their own poisons. Sokka sidles up to the bar again — he still has to fight his way through, but as soon as he’s out of the press, Hot Bartender sees him and moves to take his order immediately. A guy in the middle of having his order taken looks put out, spurned, and satisfaction curls in Sokka’s chest.</p><p class="p1">“A whiskey, please. On the rocks,” Sokka says sweetly, leaning his elbows on the counter.</p><p class="p1">When Hot Bartender slides him the receipt, Sokka’s hand reaches out at just the right time — it’s fate, Sokka thinks — and their fingers brush. He looks startled, and Sokka grins at him.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks so much,” he says, scrawling down a reckless tip — <em>He deserves it, looking like that in that little shirt of his </em>— and takes the whiskey.</p><p class="p1">He spends the night ordering too many drinks from the man, flirting with more abandon as the night drags on, until Suki scoops an arm around his waist and helps Katara cart the lot of them home.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The second time Sokka sees him, Chan’s is quiet, even though it’s Friday, and Sokka is alone, settling on one of the barstools.</p><p class="p1">Spring break means a rapid exodus from campus, and Chan’s is just as deserted. Sokka decided not to go anywhere for that week, exhausted from the previous quarter’s monstrous course load, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun while he takes a breather.</p><p class="p1">He’s also delighted to see Hot Bartender there, and he finally gets to hear his voice:</p><p class="p1">“What can I get you?”</p><p class="p1">It’s raspy, and low, and delicious, and exactly what Sokka imagined he’d sound like.</p><p class="p1">“Hm, I think I’ll have a Sam Adams.”</p><p class="p1">“No whiskey tonight?” he asks, grabbing a beer and pulling the tap.</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s grin spreads wider. “You remember?”</p><p class="p1">When Hot Bartender turns around again, beer in hand, he’s blushing; <em>gotcha.</em></p><p class="p1">“You tipped very generously,” the guy says simply.</p><p class="p1">Sokka sips his beer, watching him over the glass — he’s wearing a tight black Chan’s tee, same as before, and Sokka eyes the apron tied snug at his hips. Hot Bartender seems to notice the gaze, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.</p><p class="p1">“Well, that’s just who I am, I’m a very generous guy…” Sokka says, and then he spies Hot Bartender’s nametag, “Zuko.”</p><p class="p1">Hot Bartender — Zuko, Sokka has to start using his actual name in his head now — tilts his head, and for the first time Sokka feels pinned under a gaze and not the other way around. Sokka suddenly becomes aware that he didn’t really wear anything good tonight… he’d just kept on the same soft, loose button-down and worn jeans he’d spent the day in.</p><p class="p1">“Does this generous guy have a name?”</p><p class="p1">“Sokka,” he says, and takes another sip. Sokka was in for another expensive night.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The third time Sokka sees him, it’s 2pm in a CVS a few blocks from campus.</p><p class="p1">At first, Sokka swears he’s hallucinating, because Zuko’s got his back turned and it’s really only the hair and that taut line of Zuko’s back that Sokka can recognize, but it still stops Sokka in his tracks, hands full of odds and ends.</p><p class="p1">Then, he turns, and <em>I’m not hallucinating after all, that’s good,</em> because he’s right there in a striped tank top and black jeans that… clung… to Zuko’s legs, and certain other parts of his lower body, and Sokka drags his eyes away from those places because he’s in a CVS, for crying out loud.</p><p class="p1">In turning, Zuko spots Sokka, and his eyes widen, so Sokka gives an embarrassed, pathetic little wave and <em>oh no, oh no he’s coming over —</em></p><p class="p1">“Hey,” Zuko says, like it’s nothing at all. “It’s you.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, it’s me!” Sokka says weakly, struggling to keep all of his items in his hands while they’re trembling like trees in a windstorm.</p><p class="p1">“You’ve, uh. Got a lot of lip balm.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka looks down at his hands, at the five tubes of lip balm he has clutched in his palms, along with a pack of band-aids, an iced tea, and a stick of deodorant, and then looks back up at Zuko.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, can’t be caught with chapped lips, heh heh,” Sokka jokes, and winces at himself. <em>You sound like a fucking idiot, you idiot.</em></p><p class="p1">Zuko pauses for a moment while Sokka crumbles inside, and then scrubs a hand over the back of his head, <em>oh he’s got his hair pulled back, it looks really cute this way, oh god it’s so silent.</em></p><p class="p1">“Wouldn’t want that,” Zuko says, and Sokka perks up a little, but then he says, “I’d better check out, now — I guess I’ll see you around?”</p><p class="p1">A pitiful “yeah,” is the only thing Sokka can get out before Zuko turns and leaves the aisle, moving towards the checkout stand.</p><p class="p1">Sokka talks Aang’s ear off about the whole encounter when he gets home, whining about hot guys ambushing him in CVS’s and wearing too-tight pants.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The fourth time Sokka sees him, it’s at Chan’s again, and Zuko knows exactly what he needs before Sokka’s butt even hits the vinyl seating.</p><p class="p1">“John Collins,” he says, sliding the glass into Sokka’s hand, and their fingers brush again. Sokka looks at Zuko in wonder and takes a sip.</p><p class="p1">“How did you know?” Sokka says, and props his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands.</p><p class="p1">Zuko shrugs and ducks his head, and drifts to the other end of the bar, to another paying customer. Sokka sips, appreciating the fizz of the drink, and watches Zuko while Katara sputters about customer service.</p><p class="p1">“He just — he ignored us!” she grouses, and Aang runs a soothing hand on her arm.</p><p class="p1">“Katara, you’ve gotta make like Snoozles here and flirt your way into some better service,” Toph smirks, and Sokka turns, indignant.</p><p class="p1">“I did <em>not!</em>” he gasps dramatically, but he can’t keep up that act.</p><p class="p1">“He <em>likes</em> you,” Toph sing-songs, and then Sokka is elbowing her in the side because Zuko’s back in front of them again.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry about that, what can I get started for you guys?” he says, the picture of professionalism, but for the way his eyes dart away when Sokka grins at him, straw between his teeth.</p><p class="p1">Their orders tumble over each other, “Moscow mule,” — Katara’s, “Stone River IPA,” — Toph’s, shouted over Katara’s order, “Daiquiri,” — Aang’s. Sokka turns to Aang with his eyebrow raised.</p><p class="p1">“What, it’s a special occasion,” Aang says. “I can’t enjoy a daiquiri? They’re delicious.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko hears that and asks what the occasion is, and it’s Katara’s birthday, so Zuko pours them four shots of tequila, on the house. They’re in front of the group with four limes and a little thing of salt before Sokka can protest.</p><p class="p1">“Alright, tequila shots!” Toph yells, and Sokka rolls his eyes, handing her a brimming shot glass, and Zuko sees that eyeroll and smiles, just a little.</p><p class="p1">Katara sticks her tongue out but she takes a glass, and so does Aang, so they all lick their hands, pour on the salt, and knock back the liquor. They shove the limes in their mouths with varying degrees of disgust.</p><p class="p1">“Oh god, blech, that was. Eurgh,” Katara complains, and looks to Aang, who’s also laughing through a coughing fit.</p><p class="p1">“Pussy!” Toph cries, and takes a swig of her IPA to wash it all down.</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s ignoring other customers to stand in front of Sokka and say, “You’re pretty good at that,” gesturing to the now-empty shot glass.</p><p class="p1">“It’s not the only thing I’m good at,” falls out of Sokka’s mouth before he can think twice about it, and Toph chokes on her beer while Sokka’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Zuko’s eyes widen a little, sure, but then he’s smirking and Sokka feels like he’s maybe being egged on, just a little, definitely.</p><p class="p1">Sokka leans forward, daring Zuko to get closer, and says, “You’d better go tend to your other customers, I can’t tip for all of them,” and Sokka could swear Zuko’s breath hitches, just a touch, before he leaves. <em>Maybe I’m imagining it. He’s just being friendly, that’s his job.</em></p><p class="p1">“Keep it in your pants, Sokka,” Katara complains. Aang’s arm is snug to her waist, and she’s leaning against him as she sips her mule.</p><p class="p1">“Ever heard of glass houses? Stones?” Sokka snarks back, and Toph gives an <em>ooooh</em>, clearly delighted by the sibling bickering.</p><p class="p1">Aang blushes, removing his arm sheepishly from her side, but then Katara’s tugging them all over to a table (their usual booth was taken, by vicious booth thieves), and the lovebirds are seated next to each other and giggling like no one else is there.</p><p class="p1">“Where’s Suki?” Toph gripes, “She’s the only sane one.”</p><p class="p1">“Busy tonight, I think.”</p><p class="p1">“But it’s Katara’s birthday!”</p><p class="p1">“Katara said she brought her a cupcake today. I think Suki has a midterm tomorrow, or a paper… or something.”</p><p class="p1">Toph grumbles, but Sokka’s eyes are still trained on the bar. It’s not quite as crowded as that first night, but there are still enough people to have Zuko moving quickly between patrons, shaking a cocktail here, pouring a beer there. <em>If he only just got a job here, he’s definitely been a bartender before,</em> Sokka thinks, watching Zuko make drinks like he’s done it ten thousand times. He’s precise, sure, and cavalier, <em>and he looks so damn good in that shirt</em>, and then Zuko looks up and catches Sokka staring.</p><p class="p1">Sokka hurriedly focuses on the placemat on the table in front of him, and he kicks himself inside for staring so blatantly — <em>like he can’t fucking see you over here, he’s right there. You’re so dumb.</em></p><p class="p1">But then, after a few minutes of chatting with Toph and letting Katara gush about the lovely little surprise gift Aang brought her today between classes, Sokka glances at the bar again and catches <em>Zuko</em> staring. It’s Zuko’s turn to look busy, and that makes Sokka perk up a little, makes him think that <em>maybe I might have a shot.</em></p><p class="p1">The night’s winding down, and Aang insists on walking a sleepy Toph home, when Sokka takes a moment to sit in front of Zuko again.</p><p class="p1">He can’t think of anything clever to say but “Hey,” and Zuko turns to him with a flush in his cheeks that Sokka thinks he might be imagining.</p><p class="p1">“Would you like anything?” Zuko asks, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder.</p><p class="p1">Sokka almost says <em>You,</em> but thinks better of it and says, “Nah,” smiling stupidly at him.</p><p class="p1">Zuko doesn’t quite know what to do with that, it seems, because his brow furrows even as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.</p><p class="p1">“Do you have a pen?” Sokka asks, grabbing a napkin.</p><p class="p1">Zuko hands him one, and Sokka is about to write his number down, he really is, but he finds himself drawing a smiley face and sliding it over to Zuko instead.</p><p class="p1">At the very least, that gets a surprised little snort out of Zuko, and he looks between the napkin and Sokka.</p><p class="p1"><em>Oh god he’s thinks I’m a nutcase, </em>Sokka worries, but then Zuko tucks the napkin into his pocket.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks,” Zuko says, and then he’s at the other end of the bar again, doing his job.</p><p class="p1">“Come on, Sokka,” Katara says, and pulls on Sokka’s wrist. He reluctantly follows, thinking about that damn napkin the whole chilly walk home.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The fourth time Sokka sees him, he’s at the bar alone, again, on a weeknight — he wonders if Zuko will think poorly of him for it, but he goes anyway.</p><p class="p1">It was tormenting him; he’d spent the last few weeks turning the encounters over in his head, hashing it out with his friends until even Aang told him to calm down, already. On the one hand, there was CVS, and the surprise drink, and the napkin. Zuko hadn’t been on the clock in CVS… why would he come up to Sokka if he didn’t like him, at least a little bit? And the surprise drink, the way he guessed the exact kind of cocktail Sokka was in the mood for? He couldn’t have done that unless he was watching Sokka, noticing what he liked.</p><p class="p1">And the napkin. That stupid little napkin, that Sokka had doodled the world’s worst, blandest doodle on, and Zuko had <em>put it</em> in his fucking <em>pocket</em>. Sokka couldn’t be imagining that, right? After hearing that detail of his fretting, Suki had been convinced of Zuko’s interest.</p><p class="p1">But then again… he was a bartender. That was his whole job, as Sokka had whined to Toph, to be nice and deal with flirty customers and take hefty tips from drunken admirers. What if Zuko was just being polite, suffering Sokka’s advances? Especially under the harsh daylight, Sokka was inclined to think that he was likely just a workplace annoyance to Zuko, at best.</p><p class="p1">And then Sokka would remember the napkin, and get idiotically hopeful all over again.</p><p class="p1">There’s barely anyone in Chan’s, so Zuko’s in front of Sokka’s barstool before Sokka’s even sitting on it.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, Sokka,” Zuko says, and just hearing Zuko say his name makes Sokka’s skin prickle. “Just you tonight, huh?” He’s polishing a glass absent-mindedly.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, everyone else has too much work to do,” Sokka says — a lie. He didn’t even ask the rest of them if they wanted to come.</p><p class="p1">“Hm, but not you?” Zuko says, placing the polished glass on its shelf with a soft <em>clink.</em></p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I’m all caught up,” Sokka says, which is not a lie. He really was.</p><p class="p1">“And what are you caught up in?” Zuko asks casually, approaching Sokka’s side of the bar again.</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s brain stutters, only registering <em>he’s leaning over me, I could really just reach out and grab his shirt and </em>— then it comes back online again.</p><p class="p1">“Hm?” Sokka deflects, thinking that he can’t decide whether or not Zuko’s hair looks better up or down.</p><p class="p1">“What’s your major?” Zuko clarifies.</p><p class="p1">“Oh! Uh, Mech-E.”</p><p class="p1">“Is that short for mechanical engineering, or…?” Zuko’s voice is deadpan, and Sokka can’t get a real read on him — a feat, really. Sokka’s great at reading people, but Zuko’s a closed book in a closed bookstore.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, mechanical.” Sokka’s face feels all hot, and he decides to order before he makes even more of a fool of himself. “Can I get another one of those John Collinses?” he manages to get out.</p><p class="p1">“Mechanical engineering. You’re pretty smart, then,” Zuko says, busying himself with the making of the drink. “That sounds hard.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I’m really not that smart,” Sokka says, sure his cheeks on on fire even through his spring tan. “I just liked physics in high school, is all.”</p><p class="p1">“Sounds like something a smart person would like.”</p><p class="p1">“Hm, maybe.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka curls his hand around the drink now sitting in front of him, and realizes suddenly how much there’s <em>really</em> no one else in the bar right now. Sure, there was a table in the back with a couple people nursing some beers slowly, but there was no one else at the bar, and Zuko’s <em>looking </em>at him, just him.</p><p class="p1">“Tell me about mechanical engineering, Sokka.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s got his arms crossed, and he’s leaning back against the other side of the bar, and Sokka’s eyes jump to the plane of his stomach before catching his eyes again.</p><p class="p1">“Um, it’s just like, math and physics. Basically. But a lot of it.” Sokka takes a frantic sip of his drink, hoping that the John Collins in front of him will live up to the “liquid courage” nickname. <em>I sound like an idiot. He probably thinks I must be failing my classes.</em></p><p class="p1">“Gotcha. Somehow I feel like it’s a little more than that.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s a little coding, too. It’s a lot of the same ideas covered in high school, like thermodynamics and force, but way more in-depth? Kind of? And like, applied to real life?”</p><p class="p1">“That stuff was all over my head.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka takes a few more sips, and the alcohol is doing the trick: he’s feeling a little less jittery, a little bolder.</p><p class="p1">“What were you interested in? In school?”</p><p class="p1">“Hm. I’m not sure. English, maybe, if I had to pick.” Zuko shifts against the counter. “I never ended up going to college.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh.” Sokka isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure whether or not it’s a sore subject for Zuko.</p><p class="p1">Zuko shrugs. “I was supposed to take over the family business, follow in my father’s footsteps, you know the story. Didn’t work out that way.”</p><p class="p1">“What’s the family business?”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, finance stuff. Boring.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka raises a brow. “I couldn’t imagine you as a finance bro.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, exactly.” Zuko’s hands twist around each other for a moment before he grabs another glass to polish. “Wasn’t a good fit.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s gone all soft and quiet, so Sokka decides to change the subject — tonight’s the night for happy subjects, cheerful subjects, flirty subjects.</p><p class="p1">“You make a great drink, you know,” Sokka offers, giving a winning smile. “You been doing this long?”</p><p class="p1">“Three or four years. Four, I think. Want another?”</p><p class="p1">Sokka looks down and realizes his glass is empty except for a few melty ice cubes.</p><p class="p1">“Oh! Yeah.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko whips another one together. “You like whiskey.”</p><p class="p1">“You noticed,” Sokka grins. Zuko smiles a little, so Sokka decides to push his luck. “Have you been watching me?”</p><p class="p1">Zuko looks startled, glancing away.</p><p class="p1">“You have, haven’t you? I caught you.” Sokka slurps down another sip.</p><p class="p1">Zuko runs a hand through his hair — <em>Christ it looks soft</em> — and sighs. “Maybe a little bit.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka’s heart is tumbling over itself. <em>He’s actually interested. Suki was right.</em></p><p class="p1">“You’re cute when you blush,” Sokka says, because he feels reckless and bold and wants Zuko to know. Zuko turns bright red in response, and Sokka’s vindicated, because of course he looks adorable.</p><p class="p1">“Shut up,” he grumbles, and crosses his arms, trying and failing to school that cherry-red face into a neutral expression.</p><p class="p1">“So, that napkin I gave you,” Sokka starts. “I meant to write my number on it.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, your phone number isn’t ‘smiley face’?” At that, Sokka snorts, and Zuko quips, “So that’s why you haven’t been answering my calls.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s got a smile starting up on his face. <em>So he can dish it out, too.</em></p><p class="p1">“Give me a pen, babe. I’ll get it right this time, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s pushes a pen into Sokka’s hand, and that’s the only reason Sokka can tell that Zuko’s hands are shaking. Sokka gives Zuko another lopsided grin, then scrawls down the number on a napkin.</p><p class="p1">Sokka closes his tab and flees soon after, calling Suki as soon as he’s left the building to scream into the phone for a while.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The fifth time Sokka sees him, it’s not at Chan’s, and it’s not at CVS.</p><p class="p1">It’s the night after Sokka gave Zuko his number, and Sokka knows that it was only a day, but Zuko didn’t call him or text him at all and Sokka’s a ball of nervous energy that grates on his friends’ nerves. It was high time for a proper night out, they said, and that’s how they end up in a rowdy bar with a dance floor and a DJ playing something with a pumping bass.</p><p class="p1">It’s the kind of night that Toph usually sits out, but with Suki DD’ing and offering Toph her arm, the whole crew is there, and Sokka’s friends are right: it does take his mind off of how much his phone did not have a new message from Zuko.</p><p class="p1">They retrieve beverages and are lucky enough to catch a table at the back, out of the way of most of the madness, where Toph and Suki can take a breather and Sokka can nurse his drink. Aang and Katara are gone to the dance floor before Sokka can even look twice.</p><p class="p1">“How you feelin’?” Suki asks, a light hand on Toph’s.</p><p class="p1">“It’s a lot, but I’m having fun!” Toph yells over the noise. “Don’t worry about me.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, just let me know if you wanna step outside for a second or something.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah.”</p><p class="p1">Sokka is forced to wade back through the crowd when he finishes his drink, and he has to gasp for a moment when he pushes his way to the front. He leans forward, hoping for some attention from the bartender — <em>this guy does not measure up to Zuko, I wonder if he texted me… nope, still nothing. Maybe he’s waiting a couple days, to be coy. Oh god, what if he changed his mind. Does this bartender even know I’m here? I’m never gonna get a drink like this —</em></p><p class="p1">“Sokka?” His name is yelled over the music, and Sokka whips around, and <em>he’s right there.</em></p><p class="p1">He’s like, <em>really </em>right there, forced close to Sokka by the crowd, wearing a red button-down that is distinctly unbuttoned, falling open from his chest, and Sokka’s suddenly even sweatier than he was before.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, oh my god!” Sokka feigns casual surprise, even though he can almost taste his heartbeat. “Zuko, you’re here.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I am. Been trying to get a drink forever.”</p><p class="p1">A girl wearing sequins knocks into Zuko’s back, bumping Zuko further into Sokka’s personal space. Sokka’s not complaining.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” Zuko yells, trying to keep some measure of polite distance between them, and failing miserably, jostled around by sweaty, impolite bodies.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t apologize,” Sokka says, laying an experimental hand on Zuko’s bicep. Zuko lets the crowd close the distance for them, until his hip is pressing against Sokka’s, and Sokka can feel the body heat rolling off of Zuko.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll get us some drinks,” he assures Zuko, but Zuko doesn’t let him.</p><p class="p1">“No, no, you’re the one that’s been giving me tip money. I’ll buy ‘em.”</p><p class="p1">Zuko finally catches the eye of that bartender, and they both have some vodka sodas in hand (or something, Sokka doesn’t really care, doesn’t matter when he’s got Zuko’s arm around his waist) and before he knows it, Sokka’s on the dance floor and with the flashing lights, Zuko’s all he can really see.</p><p class="p1">Sokka knows he’s a bad dancer, but there’s no way he’s going to leave right where he is, with Zuko closing his eyes against the music and staying so close to him. <em>He must be a dancer, or something,</em> Sokka thinks, the way his body picks up the rhythm so smoothly, how sure he seems of himself, despite the fact that one silly pick-up line from Sokka had him blushing. Sokka takes a drag of his drink, and it’s not very strong at all, pretty pathetic, really, but he feels drunk anyways, watching Zuko move.</p><p class="p1">Sokka slides a hand to Zuko’s hip, a touch of his fingers, and Zuko swivels in, sweating and smiling. The song changes, and there’s a breathless moment where their rhythm falters before there’s a new beat, and Sokka inches closer, until there’s barely any air between them.</p><p class="p1">At some point they abandon their empty cups, which frees Sokka’s arms to hook around Zuko’s shoulders, and Zuko’s hips press into Sokka’s, and Sokka can’t help but grin and duck his head. It’s hot, and loud, and sweaty, and Sokka’s only had two watery little drinks but he feels delirious, because the music is pounding and so is Zuko’s pulse. The lights throw red, then blue, then yellow, then green across Zuko’s face, and Sokka thinks he looks good in every color.</p><p class="p1">It’s not like him, not at all, but Sokka’s forehead is pressed against Zuko’s so he kisses him, and it’s so loud that Sokka can only feel the little noise that Zuko makes. The kiss is warm, and insistent, and all too soon it’s over, but that’s okay because Zuko is laughing and that makes Sokka laugh, too.</p><p class="p1">Sokka only realizes that he hasn’t seen his friends in hours when he finally feels a buzz in his back pocket, and he whips out his phone. <em>3 Text Messages: Suki — 14 Text Messages: Katara — 1 Text Message: Aang. </em>He scrolls through them frantically:</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>3 Text Messages: Suki</em>
</p><p class="p1">SUKI: hey where’d you go</p><p class="p1">SUKI: are you ok?</p><p class="p1">SUKI: do i need to come find you</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>14 Text Messages: Katara</em>
</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Hey big bro</p><p class="p1">KATARA: You’re not at the table??</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Sokka</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Are you in the bathroom or something</p><p class="p1">KATARA: You’re taking forever</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Sokka</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Soka</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Suki saisd you never came back to the table&gt;????</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Bro pls respond</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Sokkaaaaaaaa</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Ur ridiculous</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Im gonna coem find u</p><p class="p1">KATARA: Oh ym god</p><p class="p1">KATARA: SOKKA</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>1 Text Message: Aang</em>
</p><p class="p1">AANG: hey dude you should probably text katara back, she’s getting worried :/</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sokka groans and fires off a message to each of them, all along the lines of <em>I’m okay, I didn’t see this until now, I’m fine Katara</em>, and Suki immediately responds:</p><p class="p1">SUKI: toph and katara are both ready to go home</p><p class="p1">SUKI: are u coming? or taking an uber?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">As much as Sokka wants to plaster his body on Zuko’s for the rest of the night, he knows his bank account can’t field <em>another</em> late night Uber, so he texts her <em>I’m coming with</em> and slides his phone back in his pocket again.</p><p class="p1">“Everything good?” Zuko’s lips are against Sokka’s ear, and with that hot breath and the plane of Zuko’s body pressed against his, it takes everything in Sokka’s willpower to not just say <em>yeah</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Mm, I’ve gotta go, my friends are leaving,” Sokka says into Zuko’s ear, and Zuko tucks his face into the crook of Sokka’s neck.</p><p class="p1">“Alright.” Sokka pulls back, but Zuko grabs Sokka’s wrist and leans in again. “I’ll text you, okay?”</p><p class="p1">Sokka yells “Okay!” over the music. He’s never been more reluctant to leave a sweaty bar in his life.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After the fifth time Sokka sees him, in the light of day at a campus café, when they part with the promise of <em>my place, Saturday at 8</em>, Sokka stops counting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you like :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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